Could Be Something Good Page 11

  Pulling out the comic book, he grinned. Incredible Hulk #319, Bruce Banner marries Betty Ross. He already owned it, of course, but this copy was going on his nightstand where he could see it first thing when he woke up in the morning. It was a reminder to keep calm and carry on. A reminder that it wasn’t over yet.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  NOT A LOT OF MIDWIVES and a whole lot of patients meant that Winnie was slammed with work the next week. Three nights in a row, she was up with a laboring mother. She was fairly sure her blood was more coffee than plasma at this point. Frances Mitton, the other midwife who worked at Santiam, had gone to Dallas to take care of her sister, who’d just had knee surgery.

  Monday was her birthday. She found an e-card from her mother in her email inbox, spent an hour and a half convincing a nervous patient that she was just having Braxton Hicks contractions, and assisted a doctor-led birth that led to her getting vomited on when the patient had a reaction to the drugs they’d given her. Given her fatigue and just not having time to sort out her muddled feelings, Winnie actively avoided Daniel, ducking into supply closets and break rooms when she saw him coming. She felt bad about it, but she just didn’t have time. He’d forget about her eventually and move on to someone else . . . although the gifts said otherwise. On Wednesday, she found a bar of Green & Black’s sea salt chocolate in her mailbox. On Thursday, there was lavender hand lotion; she’d used it on a patient a few hours later with good results. On Friday, there was a pair of pink yoga toe socks with anti-skid dots on the bottoms and a typed note: “Thinking of you. Hope you’ve had a great week.” Martina saw her clutching them.

  “More gifts? He’s persistent.”

  Winnie swallowed hard and nodded, grinning despite herself.

  Martina slammed her locker shut. “What’s holding you back? You like him. I know you do.”

  “He’s too young for me.”

  Her friend stared at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”

  “I just mean, he’s still in his twenties, and I’m...”

  “Winifred.” Martina’s look could not be more cross. “Stop acting like you’re ancient. You’re not. There’s not one thing wrong with dating him. Seriously.”

  Something eased in Winnie’s chest, despite her friend’s irritation. She was right; it was her insecurity talking. She knew it, but it helped to hear it so plainly from someone else’s lips.

  “And he’s oblivious,” Winnie added, trying to deflect from her embarrassment.

  Martina snorted. “Most people are. Look at me, I dated my high school sweetheart for years, thinking we were moving toward marriage, and then . . .” She held her hand out, empty. “Our first real conversation in years, and I realized that we wanted different things.” She pulled out a lip gloss and applied it in the mirror. “At least he’s being up front with you. At least he knows what he wants.”

  ON SATURDAY, AFTER a long, difficult birth, her mother caught her in the hallway. “I would like you to come over and help me pick out new flooring for the beach house. Since it’s going to be yours someday, I thought you might like to have some input, and you have an eye for such things. Would you have time tonight?”

  “Oh, Mom, I’m really exhausted, I don’t know that I’d . . .” The hurt look in her mother’s eyes made her swallow her objections like a horse tablet. “Sure. I can stop by for a few minutes.”

  A few minutes turned into an hour, and Winnie was fighting to keep her eyes open as her mother scrolled through the bamboo flooring in various shades and finishes.

  “I also really need to nail down some sessions to help you study for the MCATs, Winifred; I don’t understand why you haven’t arranged it yet.”

  Winnie hesitated. It was better if her mom heard it from her than from Ethan, and she had no reason to think that he wouldn’t make good on his threats from the previous weekend. Was that only a week ago? It felt like a lifetime.

  Winnie took a deep breath. “I’m not taking the MCATs.”

  Sandra turned to her sharply. “You missed the deadline to sign up? Oh, for God’s sake, Winifred, I reminded you over and over. How could you be so careless?”

  “I didn’t miss the deadline. I’m just not taking them.”

  Sandra stilled. The room was silent. Her mother stared at her.

  “Well, that’s just silly. You can’t get into medical school if you don’t—”

  “I’m not going to medical school.” Though her voice was steady, her whole body trembled with the absolute enormity of what she’d just pronounced, the utter havoc it was about to release on her relationship with her mom, like she’d just opened the front door to a herd of stampeding elk. She couldn’t stop shaking, and no amount of deep breathing seemed to help. “I’m not going to medical school. I’m happy being a midwife. I never wanted to be a doctor; that’s what you wanted.”

  Her mother looked around, as if searching for someone to confirm this was really happening. In for a penny, in for a pound . . .

  “And I failed the tests on purpose.”

  For a split second, Winnie thought her mother might not do it. Might not go cold, might not let her fury at being lied to eclipse the fact that her daughter needed her. Might let her guard down just enough to try to understand Winnie’s perspective, might step back for a moment to see her. The broken, introspective look that crossed her mother’s face for the briefest second allowed hope to swell in Winnie’s heart. Then Sandra lifted her gaze.

  “I think you should go.”

  That hope dissipated in an instant. Winnie felt her heart desiccating inside her, shriveling up like a popped balloon.

  “All right.” Quietly, she gathered her purse and coat and slipped on her shoes. “I’ll see you on Sunday.” Her mother was still staring at the piano when she closed the door behind herself.

  Winnie got in her car, numb. She wanted to go back inside and run upstairs to her old room, but apparently, she wasn’t welcome here at the moment. Her grandparents . . . no. That wasn’t right. The apartment would be dark and cold. But maybe . . . maybe Daniel would be home. She wanted him to hold her again, like he’d done at the hotel. He could help diffuse this tightness in her chest, this panic.

  She let her body tip forward until her forehead rested on the steering wheel. She’d been avoiding him since their awkward drive home on Sunday. It wasn’t ideal. She hadn’t planned this well. She hadn’t planned to need Daniel Durand at all, but he’d made himself indispensable when she wasn’t paying attention. God, he was sneaky.

  It didn’t take long to drive to his house, despite the rain. She trudged up the front steps of the shared house and knocked on the front door. No one answered. Maybe he wasn’t home, maybe he was at work. She knocked again, harder.

  Daniel opened the door, wearing heather-gray sweatpants that hung off his trim hips and a navy-blue T-shirt with a golf ball–sized hole near the bottom hem.

  “Winnie.” He looked around, as though she might have someone else with her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?” She pushed her way past him into the house and down the hall toward the living room. A young woman’s voice with a light Canadian accent filled the space as she carefully enunciated a list of symptoms of a fourteen-year-old girl, including anxiety and bilateral leg weakness. Daniel picked up the remote and turned off the stereo his phone was plugged into. “What are you listening to?”

  “Peds Cases podcast. It’s a good way to . . . absorb information. For me.” He ran a hand through his hair; it wasn’t pulled back, and he was wearing square black-rimmed glasses. They weren’t quite giving her a Clark Kent vibe, but not everything about him could be heroic.

  “Is Kyle here?” Based on the medical textbooks spread out all over the hardwood floor, the half-empty chip bowl, open jar of salsa and empty bottles of that weird imported soda he liked, she knew the answer already.

  “No, he’s at my parents’. Helping my dad install a sound system or something nerdy. He’ll be back soon.” />
  “How soon?”

  “Um, I’m not sure. Did you want to wait for him? Is there something I can help you with?” His voice was careful, and the way he shifted his weight and avoided her gaze told her he was uncomfortable. She hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about where they stood. She would fix that now.

  Nodding to herself, Winnie took her coat off. “Lie down.”

  Daniel stilled. “Pardon?”

  “I said, lie down,” she said, pulling her hair down, relishing the feeling of letting it tumble down her back, and kicking off her shoes. He stared at her as she carefully hung her purse on the back of the white kitchen chair.

  “Sorry, what’s happening right now?” he said, still not moving.

  “You’re going to lie down on the couch for me. Now.” She gave him the reproachful glare she usually reserved for mothers who wouldn’t give her the baby to be weighed because they were too busy bonding. Getting their vitals was a necessity, unfortunately. So was lying down with Daniel, feeling his arms around the ribs that caged her poor, cracked heart.

  Not taking his eyes off her, he backed toward the couch and lay down on it, with one hand behind his head. That was a mistake on his part; it made his bicep look amazing. Like, so amazing that she wanted to bite it like one of those turkey legs at the fair. She must’ve made a noise that she wasn’t aware of, because he sat up, leaning on his elbows.

  “Are you okay?” he asked slowly. “You’re acting . . . weird.”

  “No,” she said, clearing her throat. At least his beautiful bicep was at a safer angle now. “I am not okay. I am very not okay.”

  “What happened?”

  “I told Dr. Baker that I am not going to medical school.”

  “And she didn’t take it well?”

  She felt the end of her nose tingling, and she knew the tears were coming. “No,” she whispered. “She did not. So I need you to lie down so you can hold me.”

  He went backwards so fast, it was like someone hit the recline button on an airplane seat, and she snort-laughed as she wiped a tear away. He opened his arms, staring up at her, his eyes big and so genuinely sad for her. Winnie slotted herself into the space between his body and the back of the couch, and he settled his arms around her shoulders, squeezing her briefly. After a moment’s hesitation, she relaxed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall under her cheek, listening to his steady heartbeat. Winnie wiped another tear and released a shaky sigh.

  “Oh, Fred,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay. She has no right. It’s your life. Being a midwife is your calling.” He began to rub her back. “It makes me want to go down there and give her a piece of my mind.”

  Winnie sat up quickly, her hand pressed to his chest. “Tell me you’re not going to do that.”

  He grimaced. “I can’t just say nothing.”

  “Yes, you can. I didn’t come here for a white knight; I just needed some comfort.”

  He wrapped a bit of her hair around his index finger, rubbing it between his fingers. “And I’m comfortable?”

  “Yes,” she said simply. To her surprise, the warmth in his eyes died a little. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “I don’t know,” he muttered.

  “You’d rather I be uncomfortable with you?”

  “Well, no, but . . .” Daniel sighed. “I just . . . never mind. Now’s not the time to talk about this.”

  Without thinking, she slid down so they were chest to chest and stroked his beard. “I’ll be so sad when you have to do surgery.”

  “Because someone is sick?”

  “Well, that. But also, we say goodbye to the beard. I love the beard.”

  “It always comes back,” he said, leaning into her lazy touch, his eyes closing. Those full pink lips . . . it was just too tempting. He looked so perfect, even with his hair askew, his thick glasses instead of his contacts. And with his eyes closed, he jumped a little as their lips met. She pulled back, embarrassed. Of course he didn’t want that. She’d been ignoring him for days, and now to think that she could just show up here and make out with him was ridiculous. And she should’ve asked first instead of surprising him.

  She was still thinking that as she started to push herself up off him, already thinking about where her shoes were, when he sprang into action: his legs wrapped around hers to keep her there, his chest came up to meet hers, his hands came to her shoulders, pulling her down, and his lips . . . his lips were doing things that made her feel like her whole body was overheating. She felt like she couldn’t get close enough to him, even though they were pressed together everywhere. He must’ve felt the same, because he wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him, still kissing the daylights out of her. Daniel made little grunts when she caught his tongue between her teeth, and she sighed softly when his hands drifted down her sides.

  “If I have to get a bucket of water to separate you two, I’m going to be unhappy.”

  Winnie sat up so fast that she nearly toppled off the couch onto the floor and took Daniel with her, her head spinning. “Dr. Durand.” Where had Kyle come from? How the heck had they not heard the garage door? “I’m so s-sorry,” she stammered.

  “For what?” he asked, frowning. “I was just kidding. And if you’re dating my brother, you can call me Kyle.”

  “No, I . . . I need to go.”

  It appeared Daniel was still recovering from the shock as well, and consequently, he’d let his grip on her relax, so she seized the opportunity to extricate herself. She shoved her feet into her boots and threw her coat over her arm.

  “Winnie, seriously,” Kyle said, pacing after her. “I was just kidding. Stay. I obviously interrupted something . . . important. I’ll just go upstairs.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said, twisting her hair into a sloppy bun as she bolted toward the entryway. “I have to go anyway.”

  “Win. Wait.” She already had the front door open when Daniel caught up with her. “Wait, wait, wait.”

  It was raining hard; she had to stop and put her coat on if she didn’t want to get soaked. Stupid rain. Stupid beard. Stupid heart.

  “Your heart is not stupid,” Daniel said gruffly, turning her to face him. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud . . . She stared up at him under the awning, sure of so little, but sure that she wanted to look at his dumb face, even when it was scowling at her.

  “It doesn’t know what it wants. That’s pretty stupid.”

  He gently drew her back inside by her elbow. “It doesn’t have to know right now, does it? Give it time. It can’t be all stupid if it wanted to kiss the guy who’s crazy about you.” He led her over to the kitchen table, and she looked around warily; Kyle was nowhere to be seen.

  “I guess not.” She sat down and he pulled up a chair next to her.

  “Let me cook you dinner. You’ve had a crap day. Just let me feed you, then you can go home.”

  “People usually make out at the end. We’re doing everything backwards. It’s like a reverse date.”

  He grinned. “Then let’s lean into it.” Going into the kitchen, she heard him rummaging around in the freezer, and a moment later, he returned with a half gallon of Tillamook’s Udderly Chocolate ice cream, a scooper, two bowls and two spoons. “Dessert first, then dinner.”

  She tilted her face up to see him better. “You’re a bad influence, Dr. Durand.”

  He dropped a sweet kiss on her lips. “Live a little, Nurse Baker.”

  “I think I’ll have to, if I’m going to spend time with you,” she said, pulling her bowl toward her.

  Daniel’s phone whooshed with a text message, and he checked it, then laughed.

  “What?”

  “Kyle wants to know if it’s safe to come downstairs.” Daniel held his spoon in his mouth as he quickly typed back with two thumbs and pressed “Send.”

  “What’d you say?”

  He bounced his eyebrows and
removed the spoon. “I said only if he didn’t mind watching us feed each other. He sent back a barf emoji. I don’t think we have to worry about him coming down anytime soon.”

  Winnie snickered. “Don’t be naughty, this is his house.”

  “Hey, I pay rent when I remember. There’s nothing in my lease about not making out with a beautiful woman in the living room.” His eyebrows danced again suggestively. “Or in the kitchen, for that matter . . .”

  “Your own brother made you sign a lease?”

  Daniel nodded as he took another spoonful. “It contains information about quiet hours, the equitable splitting of utilities, dish responsibilities, my contributions toward yard work, plus a clause about renter’s insurance. I ignore most of it.”

  “Very thorough,” she said. “Ainsley just showed me where I could put my bathroom stuff and left me to fend for myself. She doesn’t even remember to get my half of the rent most of the time.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  Winnie paused as she angled her spoon for a chocolate chunk. “Did you and she ever . . .”

  “Did we ever what?” Daniel asked, scooting his chair closer to hers. “Did we ever eat ice cream together?”

  She felt a blush creeping up her neck. “Yeah.”

  “Nope. We tried kissing once when we were about thirteen. It was like kissing my sister or something. I don’t think we were just bad at it . . . it just wasn’t there.” He swallowed. “In other words, it was nothing like kissing you.”

  “Flirt,” she said, setting her spoon on the table. “Take that away, please, and get me some real food.”

  “As you wish,” he winked, rising to put the carton away.

  Oh dear. Especially with his hair flopping in his face like that, there was something a bit Westley-ish about him, and now she’d never be able to unsee that. Did he even know what he was quoting?

  “Do you like that movie?” he called from the kitchen.

  She smiled. “I’ve never been in a land war in Asia,” she called back. “What do you think?”

  They eventually coaxed Kyle into sharing their frozen lasagna, but he went upstairs again when she picked up a book to quiz Daniel on pediatric-specific illnesses. After he changed and put his contacts in, Daniel walked her home, all the way up the stairs to the apartment door. He leaned on the doorframe as she unlocked it.